Page 43 of Iblis' Affliction
The mix of pain and pleasure washed everything in bright red as Slater’s inner muscles clenched around his cock. Hissing, Slater pushed air through gritted teeth, and the lethal grip loosened, relaxed, and wrapped around Talha’s cock with incredible warmth.
“Master?” A half-plea half-moan broke from Slater’s mouth, and he cast another glance over his shoulder. A deep shade of red blossomed over his cheekbones, spreading to his ears, as his bloody teeth glinted from behind swollen lips.
A heavy, hot wave stormed into Talha’s head, erasing everything around. Grinding his teeth, Talha rocked his hips against Slater’s butt cheeks, then pulled out only to slam again into the gaping, willing flesh. His body, moving on its own, increased speed, and the last anchors of reality crushed under the avalanche of euphoria. His gaze, never leaving the side of the reaper’s face, watched his watering eyes roll up. Slater’s mouth slackened with ragged breathing and he lost the ability to swallow, as bloody saliva pooled on the carpet, absorbing into the pile.
Driven by the weird need, Talha seized Slater’s wrist, digging his fingers into the delicate skin on the inner side. Veins, tight as wires, drummed against his fingertips in a crazy rhythm, as the smaller body shook under his weight. Slater’s back arched, his ass went up as he begged, “Harder… More, Master… No need to be gentle. Slater won’t break.”
Blinking through the streaming sweat, Talha watched Slater’s spine tense. The soft tightness of Slater’s inner muscles messed with his mind. He clutched the younger man’s hip with his other hand, increasing the rhythm. The sweet pressure, building in his balls, spread up his chest with a heavy flood of boiling blood; hitting his head, it shattered his vision. Falling forward, Talha opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the naked shoulder in front of him. The skin broke under his teeth, flooding his mouth with a tangy, metallic taste. Slater groaned, and small tremors seized his body vibrating against Talha’s chest.
“Master..?”
Squeezing Slater’s wrist, Talha let go. Vicious jolts of electricity blasted through him seizing every muscle in painful pleasure. Releasing Slater’s shoulder from the clench of his teeth, he rested his forehead between his shoulder blades, wiping the sweat against the remains of the torn black shirt.
Impenetrable darkness swallowed everything around. Stretching time and reality, it muffled all sounds, except the chaotic drumming of his blood. For a second, Talha thought he would collapse. His lungs burned, bright sparks flickered in the darkness of his failed vision, erasing his ability to breathe. Tearing the air with his teeth, he emptied himself into Slater’s body.
The last jolts of pleasure dissolved into the silence, and Talha withdrew. Not a single thought inhabited his mind, chased away by his maddened pulse. When his throbbing vision focused, the reality of his actions crashed down. Slater’s knuckles blanched white as he clasped the carpet pile. His hips trembled, the puddles of cum marred the Persian carpet, Talha’s cum drenched down Slater's balls, as the bruised, bloody face grinned up at him.
“Slater was wrong. Master is fine. Master will do.”
Bitter taste filled Talha’s mouth. His eyes burned, skin crawled. He zipped himself up, and slowly, fighting through the dense air, entered the shisha lounge.
His nerves tight, but not even once did he look back to check if Slater was okay. Guilt, regret, and revulsion mixed into the deadliest poison that now corroded his blood.
With shaky hands, he put on a coal stove and added in a couple of coal cubes. Setting up a hookah, he stuffed the bowl with a mix of tobacco and cannabis, added water from a carafe into the water jar, before combining it all. He waited and waited, refusing to look back at the result of his actions. The moiré coal streaked with red and silver, trapping his gaze and emptying his head. He wished time would stop so he wouldn’t need to think about what he had done.
A steady, red glow settled in the coals. Talha picked up tweezers, picked the first cube and placed it on top of the bowl, then added two more. Grabbing the hose, he squeezed the mouthpiece with his lips and sucked. It took him around ten inhales to reach the thick, acrid smoke. He held it in his lungs as long as he could, wanting the emotional numbness to come sooner. Sinking onto the carpets covering the floor of the shisha lounge, he propped his elbows against his knees and rested his head over his clasped hands. For a moment, everything stopped mattering.
I fucked him… Or was it rape? I wasn’t even drunk, yet I did it. I wanted to hurt him so bad that I got turned on. How sick is that?
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before a soft rustle touched his ears. Talha lifted his chin. On all fours, Slater waited in front of him watching his every move. His left eye swollen closed; his puffy lips resembled a messy open wound oozing with blood. Slater would have looked pathetic, but the glowing flames in his right eye and his predatory, bloody smile brought to his features a demonic look.
“I can smell your hatred in the air. Hate fucks are the best, aren’t they? Master was so good, so passionate.” Slater’s hand stepped forward. “Did Master feel good?”
“Stay where you are,” Talha warned, rubbing his temples with his fingers, thick veins pulsing under his tips.
I should kill him.His gaze shot up and fixed on the top drawer of his nightstand where he kept his gun; too far to get there fast.
“Huh? Master is looking for a gun…” Slater didn’t ask but stated, and Talha dragged his attention upon the ripper.
Slater’s forehead wrinkled as a serious expression crawled up his face. The demonic look of his right eye shot through Talha’s defense. The black hole of Slater’s dilated pupil sucked out his soul, and Talha realized—there was no point in lying. Slater already knew everything.
“What, did I say it out loud?”
“Master is funny. So honest.” Slater’s head snapped to the side as a wide grin settled over his face. “Slater made a decision. The trial period is over, Master.”
Slater’s hand followed the zigzag of his right leg and drew out the black throwing knife from the top of his boot. Talha’s vision focused on the light-absorbing, matte surface, then jumped to the twist of Slater’s raw lips.
Is this how I’m gonna die?Talha couldn’t tell if it was cannabis that shushed his fear, or if he was too exhausted to care, but his heart didn’t halt when the blade reached his chest and stopped at the notch of his throat.
Slapping Slater’s hand away with a careless gesture, Talha said, “If you intend to use it—do it, but don’t make empty threats or I’ll think you are pathetic.”
Slater’s single-visible eye blazed with curiosity. “What do I do? I really like Master, but Master wants to kill Slater. That won’t do…”
The smile dimmed, and his canine tooth sank into his puffy bottom lip.
“Here you go, Master. Let’s settle it.” Flipping the knife in his palm, Slater offered it to Talha haft forward. Talha didn’t take it, and Slater’s scorching fingers clasped around his hand, shoving the warm metal into his palm. Curling Talha’s fingers in a fist, Slater guided the knife up to his own throat. “Do it…”
The edge of the knife scratched Slater’s throat, as the reaper drew it up and outlined his chin, a red trail stretching behind. His lips parted, and his pink tongue, slipping out, flicked over the blade as it leveled with his lips. Body heat rising, Talha watched Slater’s tongue curl around the edge. Killing Slater now would be so easy. He just had to sink the knife into the willing mouth, and Slater would choke on blood. All his problems would be solved. There would be no murders in his house. No one would watch him sleep, get into his bed, or threaten Ejder. No one would get Iblis either. His life would return to normal. Then why was he wavering? Slater couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t be reasoned with. He was a ticking time bomb with a broken timer, but even knowing it, Talha couldn’t drive the knife in Slater’s mouth. He wasn’t’ sure what drained his anger but scanning the transparent eye, that glowed with determination and hope, he felt no hatred only crushing weariness.
